The Yule-clog was to burn all
night; if it went out, it was considered a sign of ill luck.
Herrick mentions it in one of his songs:
Come, bring with a noise,
My metric, merrie boys,
The Christmas Log to the firing;
While my good dame, she
Bids ye all be free,
And drink to your hearts' desiring.
The Yule-clog is still burnt in many farm-houses and kitchens in
England, particularly in the north, and there are several
superstitions connected with it among the peasantry. If a
squinting person come to the house while it is burning, or a
person barefooted, it is considered an ill omen. The brand
remaining from the Yule-clog is carefully put away to light the
next year's Christmas fire.
It was really delightful to see the old squire seated in his
hereditary elbow-chair by the hospitable fireside of his
ancestors, and looking around him like the sun of a system,
beaming warmth and gladness to every heart. Even the very dog
that lay stretched at his feet, as he lazily shifted his position
and yawned would look fondly up in his master's face, wag his
tail against the floor, and stretch himself again to sleep,
confident of kindness and protection. There is an emanation from
the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot be described, but
is immediately felt and puts the stranger at once at his ease.
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